Damaged Goods
by TanyaVDG
Summary: Post DH. Lavender and George are both recovering in St. Mungo's after the battle when they unexpectedly bump into each other. Lavender can't accept her scars, George can't accept his brother's death. A story about physical and emotional trauma and how to overcome them. Ratings will probably be changed to M later.


As far as she could remember, Lavender Brown always had a flair for the dramatic. People often accused her of putting on a show for attention, but she couldn't help it, not really. Those who knew her well enough could tell the problem with Lavender was that she felt everything too intensely. When she was happy, she felt straight up ecstatic; but when she was upset, she felt she could die of sadness. Highs were higher and lows were lower for her than for others, and on top of that, she didn't even try to control or hide her emotions. Because of that wherever she went, whatever she did, she was always labeled as the resident drama queen.

 _Well, maybe for a good reason,_ she thought as she stormed into one of the deserted hospital rooms of St. Mungo's and headed straight to the double-paned glass window with swift steps. Given the late hours, it was pitch-dark both inside and outside, but she couldn't bother with the light. _Soon it wouldn't matter anyway._

Her frustration only grew with her bandaged hand while she was fumbling with the window handle - not only it was a rather difficult task to carry out with only one hand, it also reminded of her newest physical flaws. _Oh, how much I loathe to be a cripple._

When she finally managed to open the window, she leaned out and refreshed her forehead against the cool stone of the parapet, feeling the night air upon her face. Instead of cooling her down the biting coldness only fueled her determination. Lavender took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, preparing herself for the last act of her lifelong monodrama.

"That's it. I'm doing this tonight", she said out loud, sounding more stable than she actually felt. She placed a foot on the pane, but failed to move further; she was frozen in place. "I'm going to jump", she stated anew, trying to convince herself, but her body just wouldn't cooperate.

"Obviously, you aren't."

The deep voice, coming from the other side of the room, wasn't unpleasant, far from it, but it startled Lavender so bad she almost fell out of the window involuntarily amidst a pathetic little squeak. After regaining her composure she turned around and blinked into the darkness, trying to identify the intruder. What she found was a tall stranger leaning against a small window, holding a burning cigarette between the knuckles of his first and second finger. Then she noticed how the moonlight illuminated his red hair and his freckled face.

"Bugger, Fred! You scared the living daylights out of me."

"It's George."

From the moment she realized she wasn't alone Lavender had been trying to rearrange her outfit into a presentable look, but her hand stopped mid-air at his bitter voice.

"Oh. Of course you are", she said cautiously, although all she could think of was _stupid, stupid, stupid Lavender_ and _way to go, you idiot_. To soften the obvious blow she added as an afterthought, "I'm sorry. I could never tell you apart."

George Weasley exhaled the smoke slowly, but remained silent otherwise. He appeared to observe her from head to toe, so she stared back and did the same. She could tell right away that the last few months really did a number on him. He was thinner than she remembered him to be - it was clear from the way his clothes hung on him. As for his hair, it was a bit overgrown, but nothing too dramatic. The most unfamiliar about him was the bitterness on his face which transformed him into something he had never been. An adult.

"Yeah, well... Perks of wearing a dead man's face."

"Don't be silly, George. It's your face."

She didn't intend it to be funny, but he chuckled humorlessly at her answer.

"Is it? Because all people see when they look at me", and he stopped to take a long drag and stare at her, "is him."

Lavender opened her mouth to object, but whatever she was about to say died on her lips. _To be fair, I knew Fred better. Everyone did. I barely ever talked to George and George alone._

"Told you so", he said, as if he could read her mind. When she failed to react anything other than shift her weight and clear her throat, he changed the subject suddenly. Maybe he'd got bored of making her uneasy.

"Long time no see, Lavender. How long have you've been here?"

"Over two months. Maybe three." Not being able to contain her curiosity, she pointed to the cigarette. "Since when do you smoke?"

Ghost of a sarcastic smile appeared on his otherwise soar face. He shrugged. "I don't know, Lav. Since when do you try to kill yourself?"

At that precise moment, when George Weasley said out loud what she had been about to do, what she never dared to say out loud, not even in her mind, Lavender realized how serious her situation was. _I was about to kill myself._ It felt like an ice cold shower, to say at least.

"I... I did not."

"Oh?" He asked, feigning fake surprise. "Because it looked like one hell of a messed up suicide attempt."

She didn't answer. More like, she couldn't answer - the whole fiasco was still fresh in her mind and she still couldn't grasp the idea that she was going to end her life about 5 minutes age. Nevertheless, the silence didn't stop him asking questions.

"What is your deal anyway? Why are you trying to kill yourself? Shouldn't you be _thrilled_ that, unlike those poor sods, you've survived?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she lashed out at him eventually, tears threatening to fall down her face. She had been trying to avoid the subject, but that annoying Weasley seemed hell bent on try and humiliate her with bringing up her...condition. "Look at me, George!" With that she pulled up her gown to reveal her injured legs; red marks and bite marks covered the most of her skin. Not only that, but chunks of flesh and muscle was missing. She regretted almost immediately to show it to him. "I'm as good as dead with these."

Observing her legs he didn't look surprised, or disgusted, or even sorry. He seemed almost uninterested.

"So what? You can still use them. You can walk."

"I limp", she objected miserably.

"Hmph."

Lavender was unable to believe he couldn't even display a little bit of sympathy. _How dare he!_ She lifted her bandaged hand, ready to slap him if he was willing to write that one off, too. "What about this, George?"

George leaned back against the wall, doing nothing but raising an eyebrow dispassionately.

"Now what about that?"

"It's bitten too!", she cried, unable to keep her last remains of cool anymore. She felt sorry for herself too much. "Half of my body is covered in _bloody_ werewolf bite marks. It's disgusting."

"Cannot they do something about it?"

"They've tried." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself but to no avail. She couldn't stop the miserable tears. "They've tried every reconstructive spell and potion they could think of, but since these are werewolf bites, they said...they cannot..."

Even if Lavender's tears managed to move him, he didn't show. His face remained blank. "So how long have you known they couldn't heal them?"

"A month or so."

"A month?" For the first time since they'd started to speak George showed an emotion other than bitterness: he was surprised. "Then how the hell are you still here?"

"I'm not ready to go back." At this point she felt like she was going to choke on tears and sobs. She knew she was pathetic. "How could I? I'm a cripple."

"Yeah, I guess you are. But it has nothing to do with those bite marks."

"W...what?"

"Some things are not quite right in your head. That's your only problem. You are mentally crippled."

"HOW DARE YOU?"

The wizard remained completely calm. He didn't shout back, he didn't confront her, all he did was to take a few cautious steps in her direction.

"You shouldn't see your injuries like that. You should be proud of them." When he got closer, Lavender could see his face more clearly. The deep bags under his eyes made it clear he got little to no sleep these days. "Your body has been through a lot. It was attacked, abused, it went through a horrendous amount of trauma", he stopped just before her, "but it wasn't destroyed. It protected you. You are alive."

"Yes, I'm alive", she bit back bitterly. "But for what? Only to exist as a monster. To be mocked. Humiliated." With that the tears began to flow again.

George crossed his arms and sighed impatiently.

"Ok, I guess I can see your point. There has never been too much going on for you except for your looks, so it must be hard to lose that. But it's also an opportunity to improve your other skills."

"Easy for you to say, you rude bastard!" Lavender attacked him viciously. "You are unscathed. You are intact."

She'd already regretted saying what she said when she saw a quick spasm distort his face. When he spoke, his voice was dripping with venom and bitterness.

"You see, Lavender, I'm not intact. Half of me is missing." He leaned so close to her they were almost nose to nose. "Not only that, but my better half is missing. Fred was... Fred was always the clever one. The brave one. The likable one." He ran a hand through his hair in agony. "I was nothing but his dim shadow. And now that he is gone, I'm not even that." Lavender wanted to stop him, to tell him he's wrong, but his chilling words paralyzed her. "Now I'm only George. Plain, grey, boring George Weasley."

"And why are _you_ here, again?" Her voice was nothing but a weak whisper; she was afraid that if she spoke loudly, his demons would be unleashed at her. To her surprise, he stepped back and with that all of the tension was gone. It evaporated within seconds and a blank expression was all that remained.

"Haven't you heard? I'm going crazy." He stated matter of factly.

"Surely you are not." Lavender objected, but then she asked curiously, "How so?"

George just shrugged. "Like... I have a lot of nightmares. I can't sleep." He looked at her almost mischievously. "And sometimes I talk to people who aren't even there."

"Really?"

"Really, Bellatrix."

A chill run down her spine and for a moment horror almost blinded her. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Then he broke out in a hoarse, rough laughter. It sounded like it's been a while since he last laughed.

"Gotcha, Lav. You should've seen your face. It was epic."

When she realized she'd been played, all Lavender wanted to do was hit him hard, she wanted to hurt him, to scream at him, but before she could explode, distinct sounds of footsteps and conversation froze her to her spot; it was clear those who were getting closer and closer were looking for someone.

The noises filled Lavender with dread. They were surely coming for her. They must have noticed she was missing.

"And that's my cue", George declared and without saying goodbye to the confused Lavender, he turned around and began to walk toward the door.

"Wait!" she whispered, half angry and half terrified. "Why are they looking for you?"

He stopped but didn't turn back. Lavender could tell his shoulders stiffened with tension.

"My daily session is about to start."

"What session?"

When he failed to answer, the witch stamped impatiently. "What session?"

"They are frying my brain."

"Oh my..." Lavender couldn't believe what she just heard. "What for?"

He sighed a deep, miserable sigh.

"To make me forget and to help me remember." Finally he turned around and she couldn't help but notice a new kind of vulnerability on his face. "It's complicated. You don't really want to know, trust me." His voice was unexpectedly soft. "Go home, Lavender. Go home until you can."

With that he left Lavender alone in the dark, unfriendly hospital room. Overlying everything was the intense, absorbing smell of bleach.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry for any mistakes, not my native language. (I would greatly appreciate a beta, so if anyone is interested, PM me pls!) Feedback means the world to me. If you like the story, please show it! Criticism (negative or positive) or suggestions are also welcome :)_


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